


Going Home, Becoming Whole

by Brachydios



Series: Here We Are Again, Once More [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Brotherly Love, Coming Out, Family Fluff, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14318022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brachydios/pseuds/Brachydios
Summary: Alphonse Elric is fourteen when he realizes he's gay.





	Going Home, Becoming Whole

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really mean this to be as long as it is, but well - I have a lot of feelings about Al being gay, lol.

When he looks back upon his younger years, he supposes it was glaringly obvious, but he never had a frame of reference of what certain feelings could mean, nor had he truly understood to what extent they meant.

When he was five, back living in Resembool, a year after Mother’s death (when everything had stopped being _normal,_ when “home” no longer brought him comfort and warmth but instead of dull aches and flashes of an image of a mangled corpse of _something,_ moaning and spluttering in a voice that was not hers), there had been a boy.

He was the same age of Alphonse, living with his mother and father and two older brothers (older than Ed, nearing adulthood, too old to humour their younger brother and his friends when work had needed to be done). His name was Ricken, and he had auburn hair, chestnut coloured irises, tan skin, and large round glasses that magnified his eyes, as if mimicking an owl. He and his family had lived in a small cottage that mirrored Alphonse’s own home, and his family had raised chickens.

Alphonse remembers meeting Ricken when he had seen the boy crouched down in the dirt, face so near the earth with obvious concentration that he had not heard when Alphonse greeted with a “what are you doing?”. His clothing was riddled with stains garnered from kneeling in the soil, and he had clearly been waddling among the dirt and vegetation for a bit before Alphonse had spotted him.

Alphonse had been walking home along the path after wondering if a certain berry bush had come to season (it had not), and since Ed had decided looking at whether or not a bush had produced edible fruit was boring (“ _but make sure to stuff your pockets for me if it's yummy or I’ll put rocks in your socks!_ ”), he had not accompanied his brother.

Ricken had only noticed Alphonse’s presence when he had poked him in his side, jolting the boy out of his stupor with a squawk and having him land on his rear, hands clasped in front of him as if he held something precious that he needed to keep secure. He blinked up at Alphonse, once, twice, three times, before Alphonse had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and apologised for scaring the boy, and asking his original question of what he was doing, and that he was garments were fairly dirty, and surely his mother would not be too pleased with such.

When Ricken did not immediately reply, realizing that interrogating someone was perhaps not the best first impression, Alphonse squeaked a “My name is Alphonse, but you can call me Al, nice to meet you!” before holding out his hand, both as a way of greeting and an offer to help the boy up from where he sat.

The corners of Ricken’s mouth lifted, a small smile as he attempted to both snuffle upwards onto his feet to stand and to lift a hand to shake Alphonse’s, while still attempting to secure whatever it was he was holding safely in the other.

“Hi,” Ricken had shyly said, taking Alphonse’s hand, transferring some of the dirt in the process, “my name’s Ricken.”

Alphonse smiled in response, before looking down when Ricken retracted his hand and looked down to his other, bringing Alphonse’s attention to Ricken’s open palm, where a little brown rhinoceros beetle stood nonchalantly.

Alphonse titled his head, momentarily confused as to why the boy was holding an insect. Ricken, noticing where Alphonse was looking, took the action as an invitation to excitedly shove his hand forward to Alphonse’s face, having the beetle be eye level with him. Ricken’s small smile had blown to a full, wide grin, as he eagerly opened his mouth.

“It's a male rhinoceros beetle!” He said, bouncing slightly on the heels of his feet as Alphonse looked at the bug and to the boy, watching the insect move its legs slightly to stable its footing on the sudden movement, “ _Allomyrina dichotoma.”_ Ricken announced proudly, lifting his chin.

Alphonse already knew what the insect was, but Ricken’s clear enthusiasm was infectious.

“Cool!” Alphonse responded, peering down at the beetle, before looking at Ricken, “so you’re looking for bugs? Is that why you’re so dirty?”  
  
Ricken nodded so fast and suddenly his glasses nearly flew off, “Yeah! I’m gonna become an entom- en-to-mo-logist! Entomologist!” Ricken licked his lips after his careful breaking down of the word, “I’m gonna study them!”  
Another proud statement, even with the unsteady pronunciation of the word. Alphonse found himself giggling softly, before asking, “can I hold it?”

After letting Alphonse have the beetle in his own hand, Ricken had then bursted into a full lecture of the bug’s habits, what it ate, its life cycle, where and where it was not found, its reproduction and other beetles found in Amestris. Alphonse could barely keep up, but enjoyed how clearly enthralled Ricken was. He nodded and made a few “oohs” and “aahs” to let the other boy know he was listening and interested.

The beetle, however, decided it would take its leave after Ricken had finished explaining how some people use this certain beetle in insect fights. The beetle had then opened its shell and spread its wings, fluttering away from the boys.

Ricken made a quick “Aww no!” before letting out a disappointed huff at the beetle’s departure. There was a brief second where Ricken appeared he would chase after it, but then decided against it. Alphonse had opened his mouth to apologise for letting the beetle escape, but was cut off when Ricken suddenly said, “I have a collection of bugs at my house, do you wanna come see?” 

Alphonse wanted to say yes, but he remembered his brother would be waiting for him. The berry bush he wanted to expect was not far from his home, and being gone for too long would make Ed worry, which was the last thing Alphonse had wanted.

He explained as such to Ricken, and Ricken made another disappointed huff, before quickly quirking up with a smile, “Another time then! Want to hang out again tomorrow?”  
  
That was how Ed had been introduced, when Alphonse eagerly agreed to meet up at the same place and told Ricken “I’ll bring my brother!” and told Ed “Come meet my new friend!”

Ed had scrunched up his nose at Ricken’s enthusiasm for bugs, thinking insects gross, and Ricken had seemed personally offended. He told Ed “Well I think _you’re_ gross!” and Ed responded in kind with an indignant squawk, with Alphonse snickering at the side. 

Over the course of months that had turned into years that Alphonse had known Ricken, the boys had visited each other regularly - Alphonse was floored when first entering Ricken’s room, a mosaic of pinned and preserved insects littering his walls. Ricken had a smug confidence when showing off his collection, eager to explain in detail what the insects were, and Alphonse was impressed and enamoured with the clear dedication and research the other boy exhibited. Even Ed was impressed, thought he showed it in scoff of “Weird bug boy.”

(And if Ricken had chased the Elric brothers with a live tarantula that he kept as a pet, terrorizing the brothers with an enthused “Just hold her! She’s friendly! Tarantulas aren’t even dangerous you know!” while Ed had yelled how the arachnid was evil and Al quivering at the thing’s numerous legs - well, that was for the brothers to know and for others to find out).

It was nice to have another boy his own age to spend time with, another person that was not his brother nor Winry. And while Ricken was friends with both Ed and Winry, he spent the most time with Alphonse - both boys looked forward to seeing each other each day, greeting one another with a respective yell of each other’s name before running to hug each other as a hello, that would eventually erupt into both boys giggling and snickering as they held each other. Ed would trail behind, with an “And Edward!” as he would then pat Ricken on the back or ruffle his hair as his own hello.

The hug greetings were perhaps one of Alphonse’s highlights, and it had quickly became a quirk in how the two would greet each other. Alphonse cannot rightly remember how it even started, but he remembers fondly how Ricken would wrap his arms around Alphonse with a board, toothy smile, giggling into Alphonse’s shoulder.

Ricken had been a most welcome distraction to the fact Alphonse’s life was crumbling with the absence of his mother. He did not realize it then, but looking back on his friendship with Ricken, the boy practically kept him sane. In between the looming, growing hole inside of Alphonse caused by Mother’s death, feverishly looking for a way to bring her back, and living on their own as orphans, Ricken had allowed Alphonse to be just a kid, despite everything.

Despite curling on himself at night in a cold, empty house, the silence amplifying that Mother was _dead_ and he and his brother were _alone_ , Ricken’s hugs and his bright smiles and babbling about bugs could make Alphonse momentarily forget that he was breaking apart. Perhaps he had the same effect to Ed, to a lesser degree, that when they could hang out it allowed for him, too, just to be a child. Alphonse likes to think so.

Desperate for the touch of Mother after her death, Alphonse realizes that is why he had so craved Ricken’s touch and hugs, a comforting, warm embrace that encapsulated “ _Everything is going to be okay, everything is fine_ ”, a light within the growing darkness that he felt like was slowly consuming him. It felt nice, it felt _normal_. And there was nothing more Alphonse wanted than for things to go back to normal.

And Ricken would indulge him - he would hug, hold hands, touch Alphonse. He would allow Alphonse to lean against him, or to have their hands hold longer than was actually necessary, to let Alphonse intertwine their fingers and swing their joined hands and they walked together. It made him feel warm and safe, and he craved (was _desperate_ ) for such simple, but all encompassing, actions.  

Ricken symbolized Alphonse’s fierce desire for his life to be ordinary - with Ricken he could pretend, even if it were just for a while, that even though Mother is dead, that he would eventually be able to live a life where did not cry himself to sleep, snivelling in the darkness of a house that felt like a prison. That he did not have to see his brother, worn out a tired, with bags beneath his eyes after going through notes and books of alchemy in the effort to bring Mother back. A life wherein he does not need to feel so numb, and so despairly empty. That he could live a life with a happy boy, with those sweet, dark amber eyes that made Alphonse’s heart beat faster than normal and appeared in his nicer dreams.

The most notable memory Alphonse has of Ricken when one night, Ricken had knocked on his window.

“Ricken?” Alphonse had asked, dumbfounded, seeing the boy smile outside the window as he gestured for Alphonse to come outside with him. At first Alphonse thought he was dreaming, because he had no clue why the boy would wake him up in the middle of the night.

When Alphonse had opened the window and asked “What are you doing here?” Ricken had continued his smile and said, “Come on, I want to show you something.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Alphonse responded, still confused, tired but interested - Ricken was nearly trembling with excitement, bouncing slightly as he took a hold of Alphonse’s hand and attempted to lead him outside.

“Wait,” Alphonse said, retracting his hand, “I’ll go get Ed-”

“No,” Ricken whispered, “I want to show _you_. Not Ed.”

Alphonse stared, for a moment. For a second, Alphonse was briefly offended on his brother’s behalf, and was going to spout a rebuttal, but then Ricken continues, “It’s special Al, Ed’s great and all but - but you’re my best friend.”

The look on Ricken’s face made it seem he had bared his entire and heart and soul to Alphonse, utterly sincere and earnest, revealing a treasure he held most dear. _Its special_ , rang throughout Alphonse’s head, and the fact it was something that Ricken wished to show Alphonse - and Alphonse _alone_ \- was almost magical in of itself. The thought made Alphonse slightly giddy with excitement, so he nodded, “Okay, let’s go.”

The smile that Ricken wore in response was a bright as the sun, and it made Alphonse’s heart grow.

Ricken had led them to an open field, and had instructed Alphonse to stand still as he himself walked a few steps further, looking at Alphonse with a grin.

“Watch this.” He said, quietly, his voice betraying his own excitement.

He then jumped, and for a moment, when Ricken landed an a wave of light was emitted, Alphonse almost thought he had done alchemy.

But no. His jumping had disturbed fireflies. Hundreds of them - and Alphonse found himself breathless as the insects blanketed the air around him, dotting the cool arm with small illuminating lights. Like stars around him, Alphonse almost thought he was dreaming once more, among the clouds as twinkling stars enveloped him.

He looked to Ricken, who was staring back, a soft smile on the lips. He came closer, each step making his fireflies diverge from his path, and he held out his hand to gently take Alphonse’s.

They stood together in silence for a moment, each admiring the view of glittering lights on the backdrop of the dark of the night, their hands together.

Alphonse did not want the moment to end. He did not want to have to go back to bed. He wanted to stay, holding Ricken’s hand, calm and at peace, looking at fireflies.

“Do you like it?” Ricken asked, quietly, prompting Alphonse to look at him instead of the insects.

“Yeah,” Alphonse responded, finding his voice, “Yeah, this is really cool. Thanks for showing me.”

Ricken giggled, eliciting Alphonse’s own giggled, squeezing Ricken’s hand. He wanted Ricken to stay with him, to continue being friends, he never wanted Ricken to leave.

Which is why, when Ricken and his family had moved away when they were eight, his parents having gotten a job offer, it felt like a knife through the gut.

“Write to me?” Alphonse had asked, his throat tight but determined not to embarass himself and cry. His voice was small ( _scared_ ).

Ricken nodded, almost dislodging his glasses again, “Yeah! Every day!”

And they had, for a while, written to each other. About everything there was so say, of weather and places, of insects and plants, of what each of them should do when they meet again (and they were so sure they would, one day, cross paths once more. They had to.)

But of course, life is never fair. Life was never fair to Alphonse, especially.

He was excited to bring Mother back of course, to see her again, to feel her embrace again, to eat her cooking again and see her smile, and to have her meet Ricken - but that was never meant to be.

That night, when Mother was meant to come back but was instead - _something,_ mutilated and disfigured, it becomes a blur. He does not remember much of it (or perhaps forces himself not to, keeping the sight of so much blood, his brother screaming and crying, of some maimed disgusted wreck of - _not Mother it wasn’t Mother_ -), but he knows that he does not have a body. He no longer has flesh or hair, or can feel, eat or sleep. The metal that houses his soul is _cold_.

When he and his brother burn down what used to be their house and to leave to make things right, to get their bodies back, Alphonse leaves behind Ricken as well.

He does not necessarily do so deliberately - but when their home is brought to ashes, so too is the letters from Ricken and his own methods of making letters. But he tells himself, at the moment, it is the right thing to do. He needs to focus and not look behind a life that is not his anymore, but instead direct all his efforts and attention to find a way to get his and brother’s bodies back. He needs to. He needs to.

(How would Ricken react to the news they had broken alchemy’s biggest taboo? Would he be disgusted? Would he be fearful of Alphonse’s new appearance? He does not know. He is too scared to even want to find out.)

Not for the first time, nor the last time, does Alphonse wonder how Ricken is doing. He wonders what Ricken thinks, that Alphonse had suddenly stopped writing. Guilt spears through him, but it's for the best, he tells himself. It has to be, or else he feels shame curl within the empty shell of his armour, overpowering and crippling.

It’s for the best.

* * *

 

Alphonse hadn’t realized it when he was younger, but he had always enjoyed looking at boys rather than girls. He hadn’t even really noticed that he would do it either - looking at boys and men that made him momentarily stop and stare longer than was necessary. He wasn’t even entirely sure why - but sometimes, there were boys that would seemingly inexplicitly grab his attention. At the time, he reasoned it was their outfits, or that they had feature either in their clothing or face that was interesting.

Of course, now he knows it was because they were cute.

Likewise, he had assumed the discomfort he felt when people - Ed, and his local co-alchemists at Central - made comments referring to him getting a girlfriend was because it was annoying. While, yes, such comments were indeed annoying, he had thought it was because they were teasing him, but he could not entirely reason why it had made him uncomfortable.

Of course, now he knows it’s because he wants a boyfriend, not a girlfriend.

He is fourteen when he realizes that he is actually gay. It was such a simple interaction that had made him realize the fact, a simple, straightforward conservation between himself and a vendor he was procuring fruits from while Ed wandered elsewhere close behind as they went to one of the markets in Central.

The man had whistled, low, when he turned to see Alphonse. At first, he was visibly taken aback - his back was towards Alphonse when he had greeted the vendor, and was clearly not expecting to see a large walking set of armour that was attached to his voice. It was a reaction that Alphonse was used to, so he politely ignored the man’s surprise when he asked for some of the apples he was selling.

The whistle the vendor had done in response caught him off guard, however, “Nice piece of metal you got there,” he said, with a smirk, as he sets to gather Alphonse’s purchase of apples.

“Uh-Thanks.” Alphonse replies, rubbing the back of his helmet shyly.

The vendor hums, “Bet you got a lot of ladies trailing after you with a fine set of armour like that.”

Alphonse doesn’t have flesh or blood or cheeks that can grow red, but he feels himself blush regardless. Both from embarrassment and the fact this man is complimenting how he (or rather the armour) looks.  

“Haha,” Alphonse laughs lamely, “N-Not really.”

The vendor quirks an eyebrow up, the smirk still there as he goes on casually, “then you got men trailing after you, eh?”

The statement is so unexpected that Alphonse is temporarily frozen. Staring at the man, the implications of the statement slowly whirl through his head.

The man does not notice Alphonse has tensed as he continues, “I’m sure you’re your boyfriend’s knight in shining armour with a get up like that.”

“Yeah,” Alphonse says without realizing he’s actually said anything - his mind is too preoccupied with the suggestion that there are men that would find his armour attractive to notice he’s actually emitted a sound at all.

The vendor smiles, warmly, before handing Alphonse his purchase. Alphonse gives a flimsy goodbye before turning away to walk back to his brother, the words of the man replaying in his mind over and over.

“ _Your boyfriend_ ” his _boyfriend._ Just the mere mention, the mere association with him having one, stirs something within him.

He had never really given such a thing much thought. Or at least, he never realized he _could_. With others asking if he had a girlfriend or asking if he was going to woo women when he got his body back, he never - he couldn’t - the idea he could have a _boyfriend_ was lost to him.

A boyfriend. He _could_ have a boyfriend. Not a girl, but a boy, a boy that - a boy that would _love him_. The feeling within him stirs itself quicker, he cannot quite place what the emotion is, but it feels warm, nice - an overwhelming mixture of relief and wonder.

He is so caught up with his own thoughts, thoughts of having a boyfriend (a boyfriend! A boyfriend!) that he does not realize he has walked to Ed and promptly heard nothing what his brother was telling him, until Ed had snapped his fingers in front of him.

“ _Al,_ ” Ed says, jolting Alphonse awake from his thoughts to look at his shorter brother, who is staring at him with knotted brows.

“You alright? You spaced out on me.” Ed says, crossing his arms.

“Uh- Yeah, don’t worry!” Alphonse splutters out, perhaps too quickly, “I’m fine. H-Here, I got the apples so Winry can make pie.”

He shoves the bag of apples perhaps too brashy and too suddenly in Ed’s direction. The action clearly not dispelling his brother’s worry that something was wrong (not wrong, the opposite, something so right it makes Alphonse feel comfort like a warm blanket enveloping him, a feeling he hasn’t had for a long while).

Ed glances to his brother’s outstretched hand, clutching the bag of apples, before glancing back up to meet Alphonse’s gaze.

Ed folds his arms, and fixates Alphonse with a _look_ , one that reads suspicion mixed with urge to protect his younger brother, “Okay, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“There’s nothing _wrong_ , brother.” Alphonse replies and - again, he sounds too defensive, even to his own ears, which further arouses his brother’s doubt.

He could very well tell Ed. He knows he could, tell him he feels good - marvelous even - that he has had an epiphany that has rocked him to his very core. It makes things make _sense_ , that he actually likes boys instead of girls and that when he gets his body back, he’s going to get a boyfriend. It is a goal he wants to write down into his notebook and treasure, that it feels like suddenly a missing piece of him was finally found. He hadn’t even realized anything was missing in the first place, but now - now he _knows,_  and it's a near dizzying experience to acknowledge something he hadn’t previously recognized.

But he doesn’t tell Ed that. He could, and there is a part of him that wants to tell his brother, but something holds him back.    

Ed snorts, before leans to the side, looking at something behind Alphonse, with a scowl. Alphonse turns slightly, to see what his brother is looking at, before he realizes Ed is glaring at the apple vendor.

“Was it the apple guy,” Ed says, nodding towards the man, looking back at Alphonse, “He say something stupid to you?”

Ed’s eyes glint with murderous intent, and Alphonse scrambles to correct him.

“N-No!” Alphonse squeaks, “He was nice - I’m _fine_ , brother, just - uh, want to get back, you know?”

He inwardly cringes at his own voice, because it is so blatantly obvious that he trying to create an excuse. He still hopes, however, that it is enough to get Ed to drop it.

But of course it’s not. Because its _Ed_.

“I’m gonna kick his ass.” Ed mutters, making a move to go around Alphonse to make true his words.

In any other situation, Alphonse would have been grateful, if a bit exasperated, his brother’s protective streak could come in handy. But it can also be at times utterly infuriating. At the current moment, it was slightly mortifying.

“Brother _no_ ,” Alphonse pleads, moving to block Ed’s path, “he didn’t say anything _stupid,_ he just gave me apples, you moron.”

His voice is more convincing, because it’s the partial truth, and because the last thing he wants is Ed to bring bodily harm to an innocent man on his behalf.

Ed huffs, placing his hands on his hips and squinting up at Alphonse.

“ _Fine,_ ” he says, seemingly disappointed to not have the chance to beat someone up. He shoves a pointed finger up at Alphonse’s direction, “but if something’s wrong, you tell me, alright?”

Alphonse makes sure that his brother can see his eye roll, “ _My saviour_ ,” he mutters sarcastically. “I’m not a baby, brother, I can take care of myself.”

“Well excuse me for trying to look out for you!”

“Go join a gang if you’re so bloodthirsty!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I will! See how you do when I’m not around!”  
  
“I’ll do just fine because my idiot brother will be too busy being _stupid_ that _I’ll_ have to save his sorry ass!”

“Shut up!”

 

* * *

 

Alphonse doesn’t think he dreams - dreaming would denote sleeping, and with a body made of metal, he can’t actually engage in any sort of biological process, even when he wants to.  
  
There are many nights (too many to count) where he _does_ want to sleep. He never thought sleep as something that can be so sorely missed and sought after. He understands it being desperately yearned for when someone is tired and sleep deprived, but metal does not get tired. If he had an actual body, he’d definitely be dead, because he hasn’t actually slept in four years.

One might think not having to sleep is a good thing, never being tired, it opens up the entire twenty-four hour day to productivity.

And at first, newly acquainted with his current body, he had thought much the same. But there is surprisingly little that actually needs to be done or motivation to be had when literally everyone else is asleep.

Sometimes he reads, if he hasn’t already exhausted whatever library of books there is worth reading. At one point, Alphonse had actually gone out and ventured within the city, taking nightly walks. Mostly those walks were quiet and serene, with a few passers by, and only a few times he had actually gotten lost before eventually finding his way back. It gave him something to do, even if it was just walking, but at least he could _do something_.

But he does not go out for nightly strolls, not after he had returned and found Ed frantic, wild eyed, hand gripping into his hair as he yelled into the phone, “He’s not here, I don’t know where he-!”

When he caught sight of Alphonse, his breath had caught, and he appeared to nearly choke on his own saliva.

He dropped the receiver of the phone, as if forgetting he was in the middle of speaking with someone. It dangled on its wire, and Alphonse could faintly hear the voice of Mustang asking “Fullmetal?”

“Where were you?” Ed asked, walking up to him, his voice is strained, as it always is after he has a shouting match.

“Out- walking?” Alphonse answered, taking stock of how Ed’s hair is frayed and in disarray, and how he looks as if he was halfway through dressing - he isn’t sure when Ed woke up, but it’s 3AM and Alphonse had went out sometime around 11PM.

“Walking.” Ed responds, flatly, almost despondent. The air between them had grown uncomfortably heavy, even as Ed’s face slowly loosens from its distressed mask. He sighs, bringing both hands up to rub his face, “Don’t - Don’t fucking do that, Al.”

Alphonse shifts on his feet, Ed lifts his head to look at Alphonse again, taking in a shaky breath, “I woke up to take a leak and you weren’t here, Al, you weren’t anywhere and I - _fuck,_ you scared the shit out of me, Al.” His brother lets out another shaky sigh, shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry.” Al whispers back, a silent shame surrounding him. Ed grunts and waves his hand dismissively, turning to shrug off his jacket and walking towards his bedroom.

“It’s dangerous out at night, you know,” Ed mutters, stopping by the door to his room, looking over his shoulder to Alphonse, “so don’t - it's better if you don’t do that.”

There’s an unspoken _“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you”_ hanging in the air, and Ed quietly retreats into his room to go back to sleep.

Alphonse remembers hearing the faint click of Mustang hanging up on his end afterwards.

But no, Alphonse doesn’t exactly dream. Though he certainly daydreams, but he doesn’t know if what he does at night can be considered “daydreaming”, considering he does it at night. Regardless, he has his own fantasties that he sometimes plays within his mind to muse about.

The days after figuring out he’s gay, he finds himself with a very specific fantasy playing out most frequently.

He’d almost blame puberty for the sudden influx of dreaming about sharing his time with a boy - sometimes they’re innocent, sometimes… more adventurous.

But he doesn’t have a body to experience puberty _with,_ so he swallows his pride and admits to himself it's because he’s lonely, and that he really, _really_ wants a boyfriend ( _Equivalent exchange_ he thinks mirthlessly, in exchange of realizing he’s gay he also realizes that he’s lonely and desperate. Life continues being unfair).

The boy in his mind eye is sometimes very amorphous - no actual defining characteristics, other than the fact he enjoys staying close to Alphonse and holding his hand.

Other times the boy is more clear, a kind smile and soft eyes, and sometimes the boy is a man, far too handsome for his own good.

(And sometimes the boy is Ricken, with what little he remembers on how his friend used to look like).

Sometimes the (day)dreams he has of having boy spend time with him are ones that fill him with a tickling warmth, making those lonesome nights waiting for Ed to wake a little more bearable.

But other nights it fills him with dread.

His dreams have always had him have flesh, skin and bones and a _person_. An actual person, not a suit of armour. He is able to press his skin against the boy’s own, feel him, embrace him, have him play with his hair - _he has skin and a body, he’s a_ person.

A suit of armour is not a person. It’s just a thing, cold, uncaring and certainly not _alive_. It’s an object, nothing more, nothing less.

Sometimes the boy doesn’t look at him with kind eyes, but something more akin to disgust, or even fear.

“ _You did human transmutation,_ ” the boy has said once, his voice flat and without emotion, peering at Alphonse with a blank expression, “ _and now you’re not a person._ ”

Back in reality, Alphonse would shake slightly. He wants to change the course of his thoughts, but something dark within him keeps his fantasy where it is, with a boy slowly turning his face into an ugly sneer of revulsion.

“ _You’re a mistake. You’re not a person._ ”

And he isn’t. Not anymore. Perhaps not ever again. A small part of him tells him he must have faith, both in himself and his brother, in their quest to get their bodies back. But on nights like these, alone with his own thoughts, the monster that curls itself within his empty armour slithers through, filling him with thick, heavy tar. And he allows it, too tired, too weak, to fight back as he sinks lower.

He can’t feel any embrace of any boy, can’t enjoy the warmth of another boy, he’s been within this body for four years, and he doesn’t think he can remember what it felt like.

How did Ricken’s hugs and hands feel like? He wants to remember, but he already confuses how the boy’s face used to look like, so he gives up on trying to remember.

He’ll never have a boy touch him back, never love him back.

 _He’s not a person, he’s not a person_.

 

* * *

 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Ed - because he does - he just isn’t… ready.

He knows he can trust Ed, he’s his brother after all. And he isn’t even entirely sure what he is so nervous about in the first place.

He does not have a reason to believe Ed would react badly, his brother has never made any comments or actions to insinuate he _would_ react badly. But at the same time, his brother has never mentioned that he - _could_ have a boyfriend.

Not a facet unique to Ed. In fact, Alphonse finds himself nervous to tell _anyone_ he’s gay due to the fact it's fairly rarely mentioned in the first place.

When overhearing conversations with others, be it from other military personnel or outings with civilians, it's always men conversing with about their wives or girlfriends, or women about their husbands or boyfriends.

He hadn’t noticed any gay content when he hadn’t realized he liked boys, but even after figuring out and actively seeking anything that showed someone like him - a boy who likes other boys - he finds it startlingly rare.

Its distressing, to say the least. Disheartening and certainly depressing. The thought that _having_ to like a girl as a boy was the _default_ (and “normal”) has him feel empty inside, more so than he is physically.

(Sometimes he thinks of attempting to find that vendor that helped him realize he was gay, to speak with him, but he never does. That's awkward, he thinks, and a little weird, he’s only conversed with the man for about a minute that one time. Though it is a tantalizing thought regardless, and he thinks if he ever sees the man again, he should at least say hello)

But when he does see anything that represents himself, he cherishes it. Skimming the romance section of the library when he was supposed to be helping his brother research, catching a glimpse of a story between two men.

He nearly trips over himself, scrambling for the book to pull it out and read its summary, a growing giddiness making itself known.

“What’cha looking at, lover boy?”

Ed’s sudden presence behind him nearly makes Alphonse scream in surprise, but what comes out instead is a silent strangled sound as he rushes to shove the book back.

“Nothing!” Alphonse squeaks, attempting to adopt a casual pose by leaning on the bookshelf, deliberately covering the spine of the book he had looked at from Ed’s view.

Ed wears a cocked brow and a smug smirk, clearly not buying anything from Alphonse, and Alphonse knows, he _knows_ , that for the next week his brother is going to tease him about this.

“Uh-huh,” Ed says, folding his arms, “didn’t know they had stuff on the Philosopher's Stone in the _Romance_ section.”

Alphonse huffs, attempting to save himself, “Yeah, didn’t you know transmutation amplification makes for a passionate love story?”

Ed snorts, “Yeah, real sexy.”

Alphonse moves past Ed, muttering something about getting back on track - to which Ed snickers insufferably - and when their time in the library comes to an end, Alphonse does not go looking for the book (an action he comes to regret).

There was another moment when he and his brother walked throughouts the streets of Central, exhausting whatever it was they were previously speaking about and adopting a comfortable silence.

It was in that silence that he had saw them: two women, older than him, hands entwined walking on the opposite sidewalk.

Sometimes having an expressionless helmet as a head and face works in his favour, because if he had a face, he’s sure he would’ve made a very embarrassing expression. Perhaps something akin to a gawk, twinged with a little amazement as well.  

The women conversed among each other, thankfully unaware of Alphonse’s staring. A part of him - the hopeless, despairing part - whispers that they’re just friends, and not lovers, that they’re not like him.

But soon after he had spotted them, they both giggled, stopped and -

If Alphonse had lungs, he might’ve had his breath caught in his throat.

The women kiss, on the lips, before retracting and walked hand in hand once more.

Alphonse was so distracted that he walks head on into a streetlamp.

The harsh clanging of metal on metal brought him back into the present - and he sees in his peripheral that it caught the attention of the two women - and he groans at what a fool he made himself look.

 _Smooth_ , he thinks bitterly, who the fuck walks into a lamp?

“You alright?” asks Ed, crouched next to his brother with a quirked brow.

“Yeah, I just - “ _got distracted by a pair lesbians you think I could get a boyfriend and hold his hand while walking down the street like them?_

“What, you see a kitten or something?” Ed is mocking him, he knows that, but it makes for good excuse as well.

“Yeah.” Alphonse simply says, lifting himself on his feet, “It was really cute.”

 

* * *

 

 Both brothers are on board a train bound for East City for an assignment and a lead.

Both find themselves staring out the window, observing the passing countryside after they had conserved with their assignment and some other nonsense.

Alphonse, at first, thought Ed was going to sleep, but instead his older brother seems to take to staring wistfully into the distance, leaning his head on his hand. Alphonse knows that he tends to delve into deep thought when he stares blankly out train windows, and that such is usually then accompanied by Ed asking him something, so he patiently awaits for Ed to lift his head to do so.  

It doesn’t take extremely long, and he sees Ed stir, turning his gaze to his brother.

“You ever think about starting your own family?” Ed asks, leaning forward on the table that separates them, “Like, after all this is done, when we have our bodies back, settling down and making a family?”

Alphonse thinks for a moment, shifting slightly. Family talk will turn into a talk about spouses, and - well, Alphonse is still not sure if he’s entirely ready.

“Yeah,” Alphonse answers softly - it's the truth, he has, many a night he had found himself indulging himself in the thought of having a husband, who enjoys spoiling Alphonse with breakfast in bed - and maybe, sometimes, he thought of being a father. He isn’t really sure he could make a good father, but he has a lot to learn before that time comes anyway.

Ed hums, “I think I wanna have kids. I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, we’re still kids, so it's not like you have to make any anytime soon.” Alphonse responds, noting how the expression in Ed’s face gives away that he had clearly been thinking about this for quite some time. Distantly, the pensive expression on Ed’s face makes Alphonse sad - with the absence of Father, the death of Mother and everything in their lives effectively taking a nosedive, he knows both he and his brother were forced to grow up far too early and quickly. He knows he and his brother are not “normal” children their age, that both of them had their childhood cut short, that Ed took on the brunt of adult responsibilities for the both them, that Ed is forced to think about his future whether he likes to or not.

Ed snorts, breaking Alphonse from the depressing turn his thoughts have gone, “I guess. Still though, when this over and all, and I’m devilishly handsome, tall and an adult, a family would be nice.” Ed smirks, leaning back against his seat, “And you’ll be uncle Al.”

“That has a nice ring to it.”

“You know, people always say Winry and me are gonna get together.”

Alphonse hadn’t been expecting that, tilting his head at his brother, whose nose is scrunched in what seems like in disapproval.

“I mean,” Ed continues, “she’s - I do like her,” Ed averts his gaze, his eyebrows knitted as he uses his hands to gesture with his words, “but - not like that.” Ed looks back up to Alphonse, “She’s more like my annoying sister.”

Before Alphonse can actually respond, Ed continues, “but everyone acts like we’re gonna get together its just - its really -”

“Irritating?” Alphonse supplements.

“I was gonna go for ‘disturbing’ and ‘horrific, but yeah, ‘irritating’ works too.” Ed huffs, pouting (though he would never admit he ‘pouts’).

Alphonse nods slowly, digesting the words. He knows first hand how such assumptions can be annoying - or horrific - but he isn’t sure Ed means them the same way how Alphonse experiences them.

“I think Winry feels the same way,” Alphonse replies. “About finding it annoying.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, because you’re gross, loud and always break your automail, I’d say she hates your guts, actually.”

The aghast look on Ed’s face is so positively priceless that Alphonse cannot help but snicker slightly.

“You know,” Ed says, after recovering, “you’re really evil when you want to be.”

“It's because you deserve it, brother.”

“ _Cruel._ ” Ed says in mock offense, before he tilts his head, “how about you?”

“What about me?”

“You and Winry.” Ed says, and Alphonse feels a slight twinge nerves despite himself, “didn’t you want to marry her when we were younger?”  
  
“Yeah when were like - what, six or something?” Alphonse scoffs, “and you just said she was your sister, which makes her my sister too, don’t be gross.”

It's a flimsy excuse, and the words “ _I’m gay, brother_ ” are on the tip of his metaphorical tongue. It would be easy to just say and then he wouldn’t have to sit and begrudgingly have to listen to his brother ask about potential future girlfriends - but it simply isn’t _actually_ easy. Alphonse wants it to be but a small, lingering but deep sense of anxiety keeps him quiet. Part him knows he’s probably overreacting, but his own worry is too loud for him to rationally think it through.

“Ew, don’t make it _weird._ ” Ed groans, face pinched in an expressive form of disgust.

“You’re the one that said she was a sister, brother!” Alphonse says.

“You _know_ what I meant!” Ed pouts, a beat of silence goes between then before the older Elric brother continues, “So - she’s a sister to you too then?”

Alphonse, truthfully, never really thought about until Ed had mentioned Winry being a pseudo-sibling to them. But as he ponders it, he supposes its an accurate summary of their relationship.

“Yeah. She’s cool like that,” Alphonse replies, honest, “and a better sibling than you.”

Ed snorts, “You really planning on disowning me tonight, aren't you?”

“Maybe just a little.”

A comfortable quiet falls on them, Ed looking back out the window of the train for a moment before turning about to Alphonse.

“What do you like in a girl?” Ed asks.

 _There it is_ , Alphonse thinks, the subject he’s been trying to avoid this entire time, and one he was beginning to think wouldn’t rear its head. If he had his stomach, it would’ve sunk.

“Uh,” Alphonse starts weakly, “I don’t - know?”

 _Oh good one_ , he could smack himself, truly.

Ed raises a brow, “You don’t know what you like in a girl?” he asks flatly.

“No?” Alphonse says, mentally screaming, “Being nice, I guess?”

Not technically a lie - if anyone’s going to be his friend they have to be nice. But he’d almost be impressed with how terrible his performance of attempting to pretend he may like girls if it wasn’t so embarrassing. If any sort of God exists, they’re surely laughing at him.

Ed snorts, “Good qualities.”

“I’m a man of simple needs.” _Good save?_ Maybe, Ed’s perceptive, and despite being a suit of armour he knows Ed can read him fairly easily. His brother does have that “irritating older sibling sense” wherein he can tell Alphonse is uncomfortable. Though, it isn’t like Alphonse is particularly good at hiding it.

“Clearly.” Ed says, “You don’t think about girls then?"

Is his heart racing? He doesn’t have one anymore, is it possible to have phantom sensations of a heart? When he gets his body back, perhaps that would be a good paper to write.

“Not - Not really, no.” Alphonse can’t help but avert his gaze, staring down at his hands as he plays with his gauntlets.  

“Oh.” Ed says, nodding slightly. He taps the table, and Alphonse feels so entirely awkward that he thinks he’d rather be at the Gate than sitting across from his brother in a train he can’t get out of.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Ed says, and when Alphonse looks back up, he sees his brother smiling softly, eyes so _sincere_ he thinks he could cry despite not being physically able.  
  
“I know.” Alphonse mutters, and he has the itching suspicion that his brother already _knows_ \- it’s not like Alphonse has been very subtle. It's simply a matter of putting two and two together at this point, and his brother isn’t _stupid_. Alphonse has practically put up a silent sign of “ _I’m gay_ ” above his head with how this conversation has gone.

“Alright.” Ed says, settling back in his seat and looking out the window.

It's not quite a comfortable silence - but its not unbearably uncomfortable either. Alphonse shifts in seat, momentarily looking at the passing fields of grass sweeping across the landscape at the train barrels past.

It’s such a simple, small action but God, it means the world to Alphonse. The fact that Ed is allowing Alphonse to continue the conservation if he wishes too makes him feel more at ease - more in control of the situation.

It makes him build more courage, and Alphonse decides he should take the chance. 

“Brother?” Alphonse prompts, and he’s proud that his voice doesn’t waver. Nerves are still rattling within his armour, even though he’s more confident now.  
  
“Yeah?” Ed says, looking back to his brother.  
  
“I -” for a brief, split second, Alphonse thinks of changing the subject entirely. His anxiety nearly has him trembling, and it would be so much easier to succumb to his fears and not come out just yet - but he doesn’t want that to happen.

“I don’t like girls.” Alphonse finally confesses, and it feels like an immense weight as been lifted off his shoulders.

“Hmm,” Ed hums, clearly prompting Alphonse to continue.  
  
“I like - boys. I think about boys.” Alphonse says, feeling as though he can finally breathe again. Its odd, even though he doesn’t have a body, he feels as though his body loosens regardless.  
  
Ed smiles at him, “Good to hear.”

 _God he wants to cry_ , instead, Alphonse settles for a quiet chuckle.

“So then,” Ed says, leaning forward, with that stupid smirk, “what do you like in a boy then?”

“ _Brother,_ ” Alphonse groans - he’s already exhausted from making himself emotionally vulnerable to his brother from coming out, he’s not sure he can take the definite line of teasing from his brother too, “you’re the worst.”

“What,” Ed says in mock offense, “I’m trying to bond with you, Al. Isn’t that what siblings are supposed to do?”  
  
“Shut up.” Alphonse huffs, before he decides how to humour his brother, “Well, he’s gotta be nice.”

“Of course,” Ed rolls his eyes, “you are -” Ed brings his hands to finger quote “- ‘a man of simple needs’, as you said.”

Alphonse nods, a small snicker escaping him. The air between them is pleasant, calm, warm, it almost feels like a soft blanket around him. The relief of coming out is so palpable, he’s sure his brother can feel it radiating off him.     

Ed speaks again, “Can I ask - how long? How long you knew?”  
  
“That I’m gay?” saying it out loud, his own physical verbal confirmation to someone else, is almost healing. The comfort from reaffirming _yeah I’m gay_ is satisfying.    
  
“Yeah.”

“Not.. very long, actually, I figured out this year.” Alphonse sees Ed’s surprise, and he wonders if there were moments before he knew that were obvious to others, “I actually found out that one time we got apples, you know, for Winry?”  
  
“Wait, that time I was gonna beat up the apple guy?” Ed asks, tilting his head.  
  
“Yeah, I’m surprised you remember that, brother.”

“Wait.” Ed suddenly says, a dawning of horror overshadowing his face that Alphonse’s anxiety reawakens for a moment, “wait _wait,_  please don’t tell me that guy was _flirting_ with you?”

Alphonse makes a sound akin to a dying cat.

“N-No!” He splutters, “He was like - twice my age!”  
  
“Exactly!” Ed says, shoving a finger to Alphonse’s direction, almost accusatory, “He better not have been flirting with you!”  
  
“He wasn’t,” Alphonse says, exasperated, he doesn’t know if he should be mortified or flattered that his brother thinks an older man would flirt with him, “don't be _weird_ , brother!”

“Good,” Ed says, seemingly satisfied. He leans back into his seat, crossing his arms, “or else I’m turning this train around and finding him, and no matter how much you complain about how cute he was or whatever, I’m gonna shove my foot up his ass.”

“ _Ugh._ ” Alphonse groans, making his eye roll as exaggerated as he can.

Despite his brother being unquestionably an idiot, the quiet between them has returned to being comfortable.  
  
“Hey, brother?” Alphonse asks, his voice soft.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Thanks. For -” Alphonse says, lifting a hand to gesture vaguely to the space around them, unable to really get the words to accurately encapsulate his gratitude, “You know.”

“No problem.” Ed says, shrugging casually, “Being supportive and awesome is part of being a big brother.”

Alphonse snorts, “Yeah, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, i hope u enjoyed. :^)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Coming Out to My Brother's Boss and I've Been Doing Just Fine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15459144) by [tifmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifmes/pseuds/tifmes)




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